


Dragon He Saved

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-01
Updated: 2006-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Harry has one chance to save the only thing he ever wanted.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Title:** Dragon He saved  
 **Author:** Prentice   
**Rating:** NC17; FRAO (Fan Rated Adults Only)  
 **Warnings:** Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Violence, Foul Language, Sexual Content  
 **Pairing:** Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy  
 **Spoilers:** Books 1-4; pre-OotP  & HBP  
 **Category:** Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drama  
 **Series:** Yes. DHS.  
 **Archive:** Ask first, please.  
 **Feedback:** Is always cherished and appreciated.  
 **Disclaimer:** The names of all characters contained here-in, are the property of J.K. Rowling, the WB, Bloomburg books and etc. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are being used here without permission. No profit was made and no harm was done.

**Author’s Note:** This story is definitely a hairy old chestnut. It was my very first Harry Potter story, much less slash Harry Potter story so it has been well loved and re-written multiple times (I think this will be my fourth or fifth time rewriting it). Some of you might remember it from way back when on FF.net before the great purge. Well, it's back. Better than ever. 

On that note, for those of you will be reading this for the first time. A word of warning: This story, being my first, is in a very simple writing style. It's, for lack of a better term, slightly silly and you really have to suspend your beliefs. Why? Because, you have to. It's as simple as that. Don't look for this story to stick with canon or be plausible. It's not. It was written for enjoyment. Both mine and yours so...enjoy it. :) Also, this story has a...ahem...narrator. *grins* Told you it was silly.

**Summary:** Harry has one chance to save the only thing he ever wanted. 

\-----

**Prolog**

Harry Potter had always been different. Not just because he lived most of his childhood in the cupboard under the stairs at No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Nor was it because his hair could be cut and then grow back to it's natural shaggy length in just a few hours. Or that he had a innate talent of always ending up being at the entirely wrong place at the entirely wrong time.

No, he was far more different than that. Far more _important_ than that. 

You see, Harry Potter was and is a wizard. And not just a normal run-of-the-mill wizard that you might see strolling down Diagon Alley or one of those you might see in a low budget film wearing a cap and trying to take over the world. No, as has been said, Harry Potter was different and that didn't just apply to the muggle world you may now live in. It applied everywhere. 

If there are those who don't believe this then here are a few details about our wonderful Mister Potter: at age one he defeated the dark lord Voldemort without the slightest inkling that he had. At age eleven, after receiving his acceptance letter from Hogwarts, finding out he was a wizard _and_ finding out that Voldemort was gaining power; he helped defeat one of the Dark Lord's many minions thereby protecting the school, it’s students, the staff and his friends. 

At age twelve he faced Tom Riddle, Voldemort's younger self, and a voracious basilisk that almost killed, not only himself, but young Ginny Weasley, youngest sibling and only sister to Harry‘s best friend, Ronald Weasley. 

At age thirteen, he was lead to believe that a man named Sirius Black wanted to kill him, though he found out later this was his godfather; dementors that made him go into a shock that allowed him to hear his parents being murdered by the dark lord. Though with the help of Remus Lupin, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, he learned how to overcome the effects. 

At age fourteen...

Well, is there a reason to go on? If you don't believe the facts now then there is very little reason to believe you will believe them later. Which in itself could be pose a problem. If you don't believe he's...unique...in some way then you will never believe the tale about to be told...

Ah well, I suppose there is nothing to be done about that. If you don't believe, I suggest you go somewhere else. Yes, yes that would be a good idea. Go somewhere else and read about some other wizard that is just normal or go watch a low budget film at the cinema. 

As for the believers, relax and be prepared for the tale of Harry Potter and the dragon he saved.


	2. Chapter 1

**Story Notes:** Narration will, from this point forward, be noted by _italics_.

\-----

**Chapter 1**

_You're still here then? Good, good._

_There couldn’t be a better audience for this tale._

_But that aside, I had better get on with it, don't you think? I'm sure you're dying from curiosity and I really wouldn't want that. Oh no, Poppy would have a fit if I sent her another person whom...well...well that's not important right now._

_Ahem. On to Harry - where was I? Oh yes, now I remember. This tale is going to be told as if we were still there, in that time in which it happened. Actually...better yet, I think I should just show you. Yes, yes that's the ticket. I'll show you and pop in with narrative when necessary. What a splendid idea. I wonder why I never thought of this before..._

_But, before we start, would you care for a lemon drop? I do love them. They are my favorites, even after all this time._

_No?_

_Well, I can’t tempt everyone. But, on with the show..._

 

**Late Summer  
Dursleys Smallest Bedroom  
No. 4 Privet Drive**

The sun was just cresting over the trees to touch the roof of number four Privet Drive when the first signs of something being very wrong began to show. It wasn't a one thing that would tip a passer-by off that something wasn't quite right. It was a collective number of things. But fortunately for Harry Potter, it was far to early for anyone, including his Aunt and Uncle, to be awake and to notice.

When Harry woke that morning he knew something was wrong. Not just because he had woken up before the sunrise, which really wasn't an odd occurrence, but because his scar was tingling. Not burning like it would when Voldemort was up to no good but a gentle tingle. Almost as if electricity was massaging it or someone was touching it feather-light. Which was an experience that this particular young man had never in all his years of life had felt so it was indeed enough to make him jerk awake and clamp a hand over his forehead. 

Looking around wearily to make sure it wasn't his cousin playing a nasty joke, Harry slide his legs from beneath the horridly thin sheets then up and over the side of his bed to sit up. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Harry gasped as the movement caused a sudden increased jolt in the feeling that, for a moment, overwhelmed his sleep fogged mind before subsiding. Even with the icy cold floor touching his feet, he found he could concentrate on nothing else beyond that prickly feeling buzzing up and down the lightening bolt scar that adorned his forehead. But all to soon the feeling began to fade as he pressed hesitant fingers against his scar.

Beams of sunlight began to seep through the tattered remains of what used to be curtains as Harry traced the feeling away. He wasn’t sure why but the feeling was disturbing in a way that he couldn’t explain. It wasn't as if it were the first time his scar had given him a twinge; especially during this particular summer. Ever since Harry had come back to the Dursley's after his fifth year at Hogwarts, his scar had burned at least a hundred times. And with each burn, Harry had simply rolled over in bed, written a quick note to Professor Dumbledore then rolled back over and went to sleep. It was a common occurrence. It was normal. Every day. 

But this tingling had never happened before. No sensation other than the familiar burn of pain could he associate with his scar. Perhaps that was why it was so disconcerting. But even so, he knew that it shouldn't bother him as much as it was now.

Letting his hand drop back down to his side, Harry reached out for his glasses, opting for these over the contact lenses he had gotten the summer before. Sliding the wire black frames onto his nose, Harry indulged in a fully body stretch to try to clear his muddled mind of the shivery sensation that was threatening. It would do him no good to try to catalog this feeling away when so much of his life was stored in the ‘haven’t yet figured out’ section of his mind.

"Time to get up, Hedwig" Harry mumbled, noticing for the first time that his snowy white owl was looking at him worriedly. A soft hoot was his only answer. 

For a split second, Harry entertained the thought of crawling back beneath his flimsy albeit warm sheets and going back to sleep. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. Sleep was out of the question now.

Propelling himself in to motion, the boy scuttled about the room pulling out all the necessary items to freshen up as well as a fresh set of clothes. Popping his toothbrush into his mouth for safe keeping (the Dursley's never allowed Harry to keep his personal affects anywhere other than his room) he made his way over to Hedwig's cage and flipped the door open. Ruffling her feathers a bit, he then moved to the window and slide it open so that she could fly outside at her leisure. 

This was one of the small allowances that made getting up early a treat. Despite the ever hanging threat from his uncle, Harry didn’t have the heart to not allow his owl some freedom. So, on days like these when he awoke much earlier than the rest of the household, he would let her out of her cage to go do what she pleased. 

Sighing, he secured the latch on the window, pressing a short wooden stick he had collected into the frame so that the window wouldn’t suddenly slam itself shut. Which it had started to do more frequently now and Harry knew there was no hope of his uncle fixing it. The thought was laughable.

“Bugger.” Harry muttered as he pinched his finger between the glass and the frame. Shaking his hand, he began to turn but before he had taken a step, a sight greeted him that he would never soon forget...

"Malfoy?!" Harry hissed incredulously, his toothbrush clattering out of his mouth to land with a tap onto the floor. For an instant, he stood looking in disbelief at the huddled figure below before throwing his change of clothes onto his unmade bed and spinning on his heels. 

The tingling of his scar was pushed to the back of his mind as Harry all but fly out the door of his room, uncaring if his uncle, aunt or cousin awoke because of it.


	3. Chapter 2

**Story Note:**   
//blah// indicates thoughts.  
 _italics_ indicates narration.  
\-----

**Chapter 2**

Harry's mind was so tangled in the image of Draco Malfoy slumped down in a huddle that he didn't realize that he was half-dressed in only an old pair of his cousin Dudley's sweat pants. He had yet to be presented with a chance to buy normal muggle clothing that might actually fit him. Not with his aunt and uncle practically imprisoning him inside the smallest bedroom and keeping such a close watch on him in hopes that he would do something so that they could throw him out.

Upon reaching the landing, after jumping the stair that creaked, Harry retained enough self-preservation to try to open the door with minimal fuss as possible. But as usual, that wasn't a reasonable request.

Because of the unusual circumstances surrounding...Harry...Uncle Vernon had installed two double set locks and a very expensive albeit useless alarm system. Instead of a quick-easy way of opening the door, you now had to jiggle both double locks a certain way so they would pop open and then enter a ridiculously long pass code into the alarm system before you could even think about opening the door. 

That didn't deter Harry's curiosity or growing anger, however. Yes, anger was a good word for what he was starting to feel. How dare Draco! How dare him for somehow coming here and...and...doing whatever it was that he was doing! This was Harry's home away from home. Admittedly it wasn't a great one...it wasn't even an okay one but none-the-less it was all Harry had till he was old enough to get out of it. 

"Finally!" Harry breathed as the alarm gave a tweet to signal it was no longer armed. How Harry wished he could have just used a little magic on the damn thing...

"What the bloomin' hell are you doing here?" Harry ground out as he stepped into the early morning dew of light. The chilly moistened air swirled over his bare chest and arms forcing a shiver out, which in turn only fueled his anger. "Well?! What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"B-b-bugger off P-p-potter." Was the only reply. Harry grimaced in distaste and took a step further out the door, making sure to keep one hand braced against the door so it wouldn’t shut behind him and wake the entire house.

"Damnit Malfoy, I'm in no bloody mood for your..." Harry's voice faded off into a gasp as another twinge of electricity skittered across his scar. Reaching up, he pressed the heel of his palm to it, trying his best to will away the feeling. 

//‘I can't feel this. Not with Malfoy around. It feels...good...Oh Merlin, please make this stop just until I can get this bloody git away.’ // Harry pleaded. But despite his mental plea, the feeling persisted. Gritting his teeth, Harry forced his hands to his side as he focused on Malfoy's back. // ‘He probably thinks he's too good to look at me. Git.’ //

"Malfoy..." He began again but Draco cut him off.

"I s-said b-bugger OFF, P-p-potter!" Draco growled weakly, huddling into himself more as he scooted a few inches closer to the gutter. 

"Excuse me, Malfoy. But you are the one sitting outside my house." Harry spat, unconsciously rubbing his fingertips up and down his scar once again chasing the little shocks.

"P-p-potter! I..." But Draco never finished as his body suddenly went completely still. And with that, Harry watched in shocked-bewilderment, as Draco Malfoy fainted.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

For a few moments, Harry could do nothing but stare at the slumped unconscious figure that now laid a mere foot-length away from the gutter. What was he suppose to do?

//I should just leave the slimy git there and hope that the garbage trolley comes by...// He thought distastefully. But even with that delightful thought in mind, Harry turned and placed a slant block-stopper in between the door and the doorway to keep it open enough so he wouldn't have to worry. Not that it would help if his Uncle woke up...

//No use worrying about that.// Harry thought with a sigh. Uncle Vernon had threatened him time and time again that if Harry did anything strange or was involved in anything strange he would kick him out the house the first chance he got. Not that Harry would really mind since his number one fantasy was to get out of this Merlin forsaken hovel.

With a deep breath to steel his rolling emotions, Harry moved determinedly across the small lawn to the other boy's slumped figure. //He looks too thin...// He mused as he drew closer. And it was true. Draco's lanky frame no longer was the lean specimen that Harry once remembered battling him on the quidditch pitch. No, in fact...

"Oh my god..." Harry breathed as he saw for the first time the state that Draco was in. Under the scraggily gray rob ,which Harry had just realized the boy had been huddled in, was a sight that he knew would haunt his dreams for many days to come. Instead of the crisp clean robes and shinning boots that Draco usually wore was a slightly shredded black tee shirt, tattered blue jeans that had, if Harry was correct, flecks of blood staining them and instead of any form of shoe, Draco's feet were bare and exposed to the chilly air. Already the flesh looked an unhealthy blue color where large split blisters weren't already raw and seeping.

//My god what happened to you?// Harry wondered as he crouched down heavily on his knees so he could place a trembling hand on Draco's arm to roll him over. When he did, Harry got the second shock of the day...

Instead of the flawless milky skin as per usual for Draco, his face was a flame with splotches of red and varying degrees of blues and greens. Blood was dried and crusted around the boys nostrils and blue cracked lips. A long slash ran through one of Draco's eyebrows, sectioning it into almost two different pieces. His usually tidy blonde hair was long and shaggy and plastered to his forehead, bits of blood were causing sections of it to clump together in tiny bundles. 

Without thinking, Harry scooted closer to the prone boys figure and touched his cheek. It was icy to the touch. A stream of obscenities flowed freely from his lips. This wasn't good. This was so very not good. Harry closed his eyes and sighed. 

//Why me?//


	5. Chapter 4

**Author’s Note:** Remember, suspend your beliefs! Also, I'm hoping to go back and do some edits with this story. After uploading I realized there were typos galore (thats what I get for not triple-checking everything) so I'll be fixing this. Enjoy!

\-----

**Chapter 4**

A groan escaped the blonde’s cracked lips causing Harry to open his eyes once again. No amount of denial would make this go away for him. It was really happening and he had to deal with it. 

Refocusing on the task at hand, Harry let his eyes room over Draco's form. Besides the obvious signs of the boy's many problems, there were other things that, even though simplistic, made Harry's stomach roll. Dirt was clinging to the boys hands, embedded under his usually immaculate nails, as they twitched periodically as if someone was sending little electro-shocks through his hands. Little cuts and scraps ran along the length of his arms and feet; some of them obviously days old and others looking as if they happened just a few hours before. 

But that wasn't what made Harry as horrified as he was...Draco was skin and bones. Literally. All that lean muscle that had, over the years, been toned and sculpted was now gone to leave a hollow shell. The thin tee shirt that clung to his form showed easily the indents of his ribs and the hollows of his collarbone...

Harry swallowed thickly. My god how many weeks of starvation did Draco have to endure to get this way? 

//Who would do this to him? Surely his father wouldn't...// But Harry cut off that thought. He wasn't sure what Draco's father would and wouldn't do. Lucius Malfoy was in no way a kind man. That had been proven during Harry's third year at Hogwarts with the way he treated Dobby and even, to an extent, Draco. And it hadn't escaped Harry's attention that all through their fifth year at Hogwarts, Draco seemed to have drawn into himself with every letter he received from home. Even the biting remarks he threw at Harry on a regular basis weren't as snappish as they used to be. 

//How long have I been noticing what Dr--Malfoy does?// Harry asked himself irritably. He wasn't sure of the answer. Or perhaps, more likely, he didn't want to think about the answer. If he did then he'd have to admit a few things that were better left unsaid...

"Well you're a right mess..." He mumbled, more for the sake of saying something then really having anything to say. "...what am I gonna do with you?"

When only another groan escaped the boy's lips, Harry sighed. There was only one thing for him to do and he really didn't want to do it...With a deep breath, he shifted down till he was able to wiggle his arms beneath the blonde's knees and back. Steadying himself, Harry slowly stood, bringing Draco's body close against his chest. 

//He barely weighs a thing.// He thought worriedly. Draco wasn't even as heavy as some of the stacks of school books Harry had to lug around from class to class. Clutching his bundle close, Harry turned and trudged back across the short distance.

Using his foot, he forced the front door open, kicking the block-stopper to the side and carefully maneuvered them both inside; that done, he once again used his foot to gently swing the door shut. A shiver ran through him again as the tingling in his scar, which until now he had successfully ignored, flared almost painfully so. Instinctively Harry clutched Draco closer. What the hell was going on?

//Don't just stand there! Get him up to your room before either a.) He wakes up and starts hexing you or b.) Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia wake up and start hitting you.// 

Without hesitation Harry began climbing the stairs (minding the squeaking step, of course) and tried not to think to closely about his motivation for doing so. Why should he care if anyone else sees Draco besides him? It wasn't as if the humiliation wouldn't do Draco some good...

//Oh bloody buggery you're pathetic!// Harry thought when he realized that he had, by now, gotten to his room without any fuss and was now tucking Draco into his bed gently. //Get a grip Potter! //

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Harry looked down spitefully at his enemy (who just happened to be snuggled quite nicely in his bed). "This is your fault, you know? This...whatever it is." Harry growled, rubbing his fingers over his scar to try to get the feeling to dull. The flare from before had faded but only by a fraction or so since he had settled Draco onto the bed. 

"I hate my life." Harry said glumly, slumping down on the edge of the bed. Glancing over to Hedwig's cage he noticed with mild surprise that his owl was still there, looking at them both with something akin to affection. Affection?


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"What are you looking at?" Harry snapped, earning a glare from Hedwig even as she hopped out of her cage and swooped out the window into the budding light of dawn. 

"Damn."

The last thing he wanted to do was have Hedwig mad at him...again. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was in a house that everyone bloody well hated him and _then_ have to deal with a beat-up I'm-a-Malfoy-so-bow-down-or-you'll-have-your-bollocks-ripped-off enemy. His life was so unfair sometimes.

"Well you've done it this time, Malfoy. I don't know how you managed it but however you did...I hope it was worth it." Harry mumbled, dropping his head into his hands. The feeling in his scar had seemed to settle on a somewhat tolerable level or, at least, a level that he could ignore. And for that he was grateful.

//Well don't just sit there...do _something_.// A little voice in his head commanded even as his hands dropped down to his sides. //I guess I could...clean him up a bit.//

Propelling himself off the edge of the bed, Harry scuttled around the room trying to find what he may need along with his scattering wits. //Better chance of finding Dobby then finding them.// A very Hermione-ish voice chided him. That only produced a scowl. 

Gathering the little bit of dignity he felt he had left, Harry grabbed a wash towel (which was really just shreds of Dudley's old shirts) from a stack (yes, they were yet another thing that Aunt Petunia insisted he keep in his room. After all, she didn't want to have to do the laundry for **him** ) and crossed to the room to the door. Despite the fact that he had to keep everything from toothpaste to his own 'towels' in the room, he still had go across the hall to the small bathroom; which was, of course, right next door to Dudley's room.

And, yes, even though Dudley could sleep through a sonic blast, he still risked the chance of waking up his Aunt or Uncle, which would only lead to a fate worse then Voldemort. When Uncle Vernon was woken early...to early...he was like a pit-bull with rabies. Harry winced to think about the one time three years ago when he had gotten up for a spot of water...

//My back still gives a twinge now and then from all the yard work I had to do.// He thought, placing a hand on the small of his back.

( _Ahem I think I need to jump in here...yes, yes I know you want to get on with the story but this needs to be told. Despite popular belief, Vernon never beat Harry. I know some of you and probably thinking 'ri-ight' but really, I would have never allowed Harry to stay there if I thought he was in any real danger. You see, Vernon and Petunia thought of all wizards as impure so why would Vernon touch dare to touch Harry?...I'm sure some of you understand better now...Don't look at me like that...I needed to explain. I think I should be offended by such language...but for the sake of Harry...I'm leaving now..._ )

With exaggerated care, Harry turned the doorknob and peeked out into the dim hallway. No a peep. Casting one last withering glance at Draco's still form and sending a prayer to Merlin, he stepped out into the hallway and tiptoed to the bathroom. 

//If anyone's listening - give me a break. Please.//


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was slow going to the bathroom. Every other step was accompanied by a low moan in the woodwork that made Harry freeze like a statue for half a second before continuing on. This was definitely not what he had in mind when he had started this week...

Through the week he had the rare luxury of enjoying undisturbed solitude. Since it would be his birthday in less than a month, the Dursley's had taken to ignoring him far more thoroughly than they normally would have. He wasn't sure of the exact reasons but had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the fact that he had overheard Petunia talking about going on vacation before her "Dudley-kins" had to go back to Smelting. 

Not that Harry objected. What he wouldn't give for just one week of no Dursleys...

//Fat chance of that happening, Potter, they'll probably send you to some neighbor.// His scowl deepened. Life was cruel.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he finally was able to turn the cool knob of the bathroom. The room was small; so small that it only afforded enough room for a small stand-up shower (in which Dudley, if he didn't get to use his parent's master bath, had to keep the door open so that he was about to turn. How he washed was a mystery), a painfully small pedestal sink and a toilet.

"Just wet the cloth and get out..." Harry muttered, folding the towel into a small square. With exaggerated ease, he turned the faucet onto its lowest setting. Cool water trickled out, wetting the cloth and shocking Harry's body a bit more awake. 

Not wanting to waste time, Harry quickly grabbed another one of Aunt Petunia's "nice" dry towels, flipped the water back off, and left the room without hesitation. His heart was pounding in his chest making him feel as though it would burst through. Would his Uncle and Aunt be outside waiting for him...?

No. They weren't. Thankfully. 

//Thank you Merlin! // He thought gleefully. //Almost there, almost there...//

But then, Harry's heart skipped a beat. There in the quiet of the hall he heard the one thing that he never wanted to hear again. Draco Malfoy screaming for help.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

If Harry didn't know better he would have said that right at that moment he got his first gray hair. Hell, his first set of gray hairs, more like. Which seemed rather ridiculous if one was to think about it since he had faced more dangerous and deadly things but...It wasn't facing the Dursley's that had his heart beating so fast. It was Draco.

Never in all his life had he heard someone scream in such utter fright; in anger, yes, in confusion, yes, even in pain but never before had heard such utter terror and anguish in one sound. Especially from the likes of one Draco Malfoy. That alone was enough to make a small part of him die. 

Whatever it was that scared Draco so thoroughly must be...must have been...

Harry shuddered. God, he didn't want to think about it...

"THAT BOY! I'LL BLOODY WELL KILL HIM!" 

A string of indistinguishable and very un-Gryffindor curses flowed out of Harry's mouth as he put his quidditch toughened legs into use and sprinted into his room. Once inside, he wasted no time as he turned and slammed the door shut even as he heard his Uncle and Aunt's door slam open. 

Another curse dripped from Harry's tongue as he fumbled with the locks on his door. Though the majority of the locks were on the outside, Harry had taken it upon himself to, over the summer, install three on the inside. Just in case. He never knew what might happen nowadays and even though the locks were a mere nothing to another wizard, they would allow him the space of a few seconds to escape if needed. 

"BOY!" Vernon's voice boomed from the few feet away from Harry's door. Harry bit his lip hard as he slid the last lock into place. If only Dumbledore and the Ministry would allow him a little leeway so he could enforce the locks with a touch of magic. Then he would know that Vernon would never be able to enter his room without his consent. Now all he could do was hope that the locks held.

Taking a step back, Harry grabbed the one rickety chair in the room and tilted it so it was braced just under the doorknob. If his Uncle did break the locks then at least Harry might have a chance to figure out something while he struggled with that chair. 

As if on some cue, the door began to shake as Vernon pounded his oversized fist against it's frame.

"OPEN THIS DOOR!" 

Harry winced and took another involuntary step back. He was use to his Uncle yelling but it never failed to make him uneasy. After all, the man sounded like a strangled pig when he did it. 

//Maybe I should use my wand. I'm sure the Ministry would let it go after they found out the circumstances...// 

But before he could turn and search for said wand, Draco screamed again. Reminding him why his Uncle was angry in the first place.

"Draco...Malfoy...shit! Be quiet. Please be quiet." Harry pleaded as he abandoned his spot where he was standing to go to the boy's side. "Please, Draco...just..."

But Draco didn't seem inclined to listen as another scream ripped out his lungs as he writhed on the bed. His body was jerking back and forth over the thin frame making it squeak in protest. //Shit.//

The door creaked in protest as Vernon lay in on another round of beating the poor woodwork. "STOP IT BOY! STOP THAT SCREAMING!"

Harry bit his lip once again, soon tasting blood. What the hell was he supposed to do? On one side of the door he had his Uncle foaming at the mouth and on the other he had Draco having some sort of fit that reminded him vaguely of what happened to drug addicts when they were going through withdraw. Or so he had read.

//Damnit Draco...you had better have a good explanation for this.// He thought as he sat down on the bed to try to grip onto Draco's jerking arms. It was a tough task. Every time he had a somewhat firm hold the boy would jerk away as another set of spasms racked his frames. Yet again all Harry could say was...

"Oh my god." 

The spasms through Draco's body only intensified with each slam of his Uncle's fist causing Harry to wonder if the man somehow had something to do with this. But that thought quickly fled as Harry's own scream joined in with the boy's as his scar flared...


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

For how long this went out, Harry couldn't say. Draco's jerking body and his Uncle's banging where second to the pain that was sweeping through him from his scar. It was as if someone had injected acid into him and it was slowly crawling its way through his veins, destroying him from the inside out. 

Grip faltering on the Slytherins’ body, Harry pressed his palms flatly against the side of his head as though he feared if he didn’t it would explode. Blood rushed in his ears making everything else seep through in a dull roar. A light sheen of sweat broke out across his body. God, when would it stop?

Minutes flashed by as the pain continued. He couldn't even bring himself to care as Draco's body, still within the hold of the seizure, slammed into his own causing both of their bodies to tumble to the floor. It made the pain feel as though someone has just stuck a knife into his scar and was now twisting it about.

Twisting and writhing on his own, Harry was dimly aware of Draco's hands reaching out on their own accord to scratch at his bare chest as though the blonde were a cat. Harry gasped as the stinging pain that skittered across his chest. 

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” Harry chanted, the two pains mixing together in agony. “Stop!”

And with that the pain fled. So quickly that within a blink of an eye Harry was left panting and slumped on the floor.

//What...?// He thought removing his hands from the sides of his face. His arms and ears were aching but the only sensation in his scar was that gentle tingling sensation that felt raw and overpowering and so...

"...DO YOU HEAR ME?! DAMMIT BOY STOP THAT GOD FORSAKEN SCREAMING!" 

Harry groaned. Why does everything bad have to happen all at the same time for him? 

Pushing himself up shakily, Harry took a moment to look down at his chest. Two pairs of ragged scratches ran from his collar bone to his belly button. He sighed. 

//One problem at a time.// He thought wearily, the echo’s of his pain still shocking through is body. Pressing a hand out to steady himself he looked down at Draco, his heart seizing, realizing the boy was still being rocked by great spasms that made the boy‘s teeth chatter together violently.

But instead of the jerky movements of just before the boy's body was writhing, his nails now scratching himself. //He's hurting himself...Do something!// His mind screamed. So Harry did the only thing he could...

Reaching over Draco's body he grabbed the blonde's hands and pinned them to his side as he crawled onto the bed and then in turn onto Draco, using his body and legs to pin the rest of him. Harry gritted his teeth as he dug his toes into the bed sheets.

"Calm down, Draco. Calm down!" He mumbled. Despite the blondes weakened and diminished form, holding him down was like wrestling the Weasley twins. Especially in the skitter state he was in. 

"Draco, please..." He said voice quieter. He was desperate. If Draco didn't respond to a command then maybe he would to tenderness...

It worked.

"That's it...calm down...Just listen to my voice." He whispered low as if he was talking to a scared animal. His insides twisted painfully as Draco melted in his arms. "You're doing good...that's it. Just listen to me...I won't let anyone hurt you..."

Even with Vernon's continuing screaming, Harry was inexplicably pleased at how Draco responded to his voice and his voice alone. 

"I'm so proud of you. You're doing so well. Calm down...just a little more. Deep breath, baby. That's it. Good Draco...good."

Feeling slightly reassured that Draco wouldn't go into another fit, Harry moved both of his hands to cradle the blondes face. "You're so good. I'm so proud." He murmured, one hand carting through Draco's hair and the other petting small circle against the boy's flushed cheeks. 

Without a thought Harry drowned out everything else that didn't have to do with Draco. The boy had his full attention. Not even the almost overwhelming tingling in his scar could distract him from Draco.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_I think it's about time I cut in again. Yes, I know that I should probably let you go on and find out what happens but for those of you biting your nails in fright...I thought I would reassure you a bit. Although it does seem as though everything is a bit scattered and jumbled...well let me just say that everything connects. I do so love a mystery and I wouldn't deprive you of one but I thought it wouldn't spoil too much if I just told you that...So keep it in mind...Oh...and are you sure you wouldn't like a lemon drop? They're quite tasty. No? Well, perhaps later..._

The greater part of an hour had already passed by the time Harry decided he had enough of his Uncle's rambling. What his Uncle thought he was accomplishing by yelling at his door, Harry didn't know. But, he’d had enough. 

Sliding out of bed with one last caress to Draco's gaunt cheek, Harry made his way to the door. He would not have the man continue to beat on the damn door while the blonde was in here suffering!

Gathering his anger around him like a shield, Harry grabbed the rickety chair firmly and threw it to the side. He noted with some satisfaction that his Uncle's roar had stopped mid rant as he deftly slide the locks out of the way. Before he had the chance to reach for the knob, the door flew open...

"ABOUT BLOODY TIME! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE..." But Vernon's voice trailed off as he got a good look at his horrid little nephew. His eyes widened slightly even as another flush of anger covered his portly cheeks. Moments later his beady little eyes glanced past Harry to Draco, his bushy mustache twitched. But before he could look more closely or even take a step forward, Harry stepped in his way...

Disgust and anger welled inside of Harry as he stared as his Uncle. The man's obese face was red and covered in sweat. His mustache quivered as he took in great gulps of air through his oversized nostrils. 

A snarl broke Harry's lips. "Get out."

Vernon's beady eyes sharpened. "NOW SEE HERE BOY! YOU LIVE WITH ME AND I WON'T STAND FOR YOU TO TALK TO ME..."

"SHUT UP!" Harry barked, cutting Vernon off. How dare his Uncle. How dare him. Taking a deep breath, Harry felt his scar flare with an echo of his previous pain, fueling his anger ten-fold. Curling his fingers into tight fist, Harry continued on in a low tightly controlled voice. "You will get out of my room. Now."

Vernon sneered. "WAIT JUST A MINUTE.."

"I told you to shut up," growled Harry. Vernon did, too shocked to do anything else. "Good. Now you will turn around and leave my room. You will **not** bother me again. If you do, I'll make you regret it."

Vernon stared at Harry for a long moment as if gauging how serious Harry was. Then...

"You aren't allowed to do magic outside of school."

Harry snorted. "You really think that would stop me from blasting your big hairy arse off the face of the planet?"

Vernon's face went red and white all at the same time. "You...you..." He sputtered but then stopped short. Harry smirked. 

"Now get out. And if you so much as breath a word to **anyone** about my guest...hell if you bloody well **think** about what and who you saw in this room, Dudley will suddenly have a snout and a new tail." 

Vernon stared at him then turned on his heels as best as he could and stormed out of Harry's room, slamming the door behind him. 

Harry's smirk grew. Merlin that had felt good. 

"B-b-bet you've b-been waiting to d-d-do that for a w-w-while n-now..." A croaking voice murmured behind him causing Harry to spin around and stare into the smoky gray eyes of his archenemy. 

Harry's smile faltered for a moment. If possible, Draco looked worse awake than he did asleep. 

Draco lifted an eyebrow but soon forego-ed it when he realized it was the one that had been slashed. Harry forced a smile.

"I've been wanting to do that since I came here." He said. Draco nodded in understanding as a dry cough racked his form. Harry took an involuntary step forward. He didn't know how Draco would react to him being nice now that he was awake. //Wait a minute...how long has he been awake?//

"D-d-don't j-just stand there P-otter. Get m-me a d-d-drink." Draco wheezed, clutching a hand over his ribs. Harry propelled himself into motion. 

//Where the bloody hell---aha! There it is!// He thought as he scanned his room for the water bottle he kept there. Since the one time that he had gotten punished for getting up in the middle of the night for a glass of water when he was twelve, he had taken to filling one before he went to bed just in case. 

Grabbing the bottle from off his desk, Harry quickly unscrewed the cap and moved to Draco holding it out to him. Draco rolled his eyes. 

"C-can't exactly d-d-drink it laying d-down now, c-can I?" Draco asked. Harry blushed.

Setting the bottle onto the floor out of the way, he moved to Draco's side and slide an arm under his shoulders to help him sit up. That accomplished he picked up the bottle and put it to Draco's lips. 

For a less than a second Draco looked as though he was about to protest but one look at Harry's determined face and he stayed silent, sipping his water. Several silent minutes passed as Harry helped Draco drink, making sure never to give him more than a table spoon each time so it wouldn't turn Draco's stomach. By the time the process was done, Draco had drunk half the bottle.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, a crease forming between his brows as he held the bottle up in invitation. Draco shook his head. 

"F-full." He said simply. Harry sighed. Being full after half a bottle of water was definitely not a good sign. 

//Maybe I can make him a little broth...// He thought as he recapped the bottle. //At least then he would have something with a little consistency in him. Or maybe some very weak tea to start...//

Draco's stuttering whispered voice pulled him out of his musing. "T-th-thank you."

Harry didn't pretend to mistake what he meant. "You're welcome."

Strained minutes passed as Harry allowed Draco to adjust to saying 'thank you' to him. Harry settled himself at the end of the bed, making sure he didn't touch Draco. Who knew how the boy would react to the contact. 

"H-he always l-like that?" Draco asked minutes later. Harry smiled blandly.

"Pretty much." 

Draco nodded. Harry watched him curiously from under his lashes. Something was going on in that cute little blonde head of his. //Whoa! Red light! Stop right there! Do NOT pass go, do NOT collect two hundred gallons. Cute?//

A small sigh escaped Draco's lips as his nose wrinkled. Harry bit his bottom lip. //Yeah. Definitely cute. Have I told you that you're pathetic today?//

"So..." Harry started. He was not going down that lane of thought. At least not now. 

"So what P-Potter?" Draco sneered. //There's the Slytherin you know and lo-hate.// 

Harry shrugged. 

"Planning on telling me what's the hell is going on?" He asked nonchalantly though his heart was pounding in his chest. 

"I'm l-laying here and y-y-you're sitting there." Draco stated with another eye roll, though the corners of his eyes scrunched as if he was in pain. "T-try to keep up w-with the rest of the c-c-class, Potter."

Harry sighed. "Cut the shit, Dr-Malfoy. Just tell me why the hell I woke up this morning to find you in my front lawn." 

Draco grimaced and settled down further into Harry's pillow. "L-leave m-m-me alone. I'm s-s-leepy."

"Malfoy..." Harry growled but stopped himself short as he saw the way the boy's eyes were, indeed, dropping. "Fine Malfoy...get some sleep. But when you wake up, I want answers."

"Mmm." Was the only response he got as Draco fell back into a deep sleep. Harry sighed and for the second time of the day swung himself out of bed. //Need to write Dumbledore anyway...//

Dragging the dingy chair over to the desk, Harry got out parchment and ink. He'd have to wait for Hedwig to come back before he could send it but he could at least pass the time by writing it out. 

//How the bloody hell do I start this? 'Dear Dumbledore, Draco is here. Scar tingled and hurt. Yours truly, Harry.'?// Harry snorted. //Don't think so.// 

Opening his ink well slowly, Harry sat back in his chair to contemplate. His eyes wandered over to Draco's sleeping form. 

//He sucks his thumb!?//


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

By the time Draco awoke again it was well past tea time and Harry was on his fifth try of writing to Dumbledore. Every time he would begin to write he would feel as though his explanations were weak or silly. After all, this situation wasn't exactly an easy thing to write about and Harry barely knew where to start. 

"Bollocks..." Harry muttered crossly as he waded up the ink blotted parchment before him. 

"P-problems with h-h-homework, Potter?" Draco's wry pillow-muffled voice asked. Harry looked over in surprise. He hadn't expected Draco to wake up till later in the evening or, perhaps, not even till the next morning. 

"No...I, well, I was writing Professor Dumbledore." He said, ignoring the squeak of protests from the chair as he leaned back till the front to legs were hovering above the floor. Draco still had his thumb pressed tightly against him mouth though it was no longer inside. Two of his fingers were curled against his chin while the other two were over his nose. Just like any true thumb-sucker did...//Maybe he's been a thumb-sucker since he was a baby.// 

A vivid image of Draco as a baby, perhaps even in tweed nappies with a little stuffed toy dragon sucking his thumb, popped into Harry's head making him grin.

"Oh." Draco murmured, giving him an odd look before pulling his hand away from his face completely unfazed that Harry had seen him sucking his thumb and gave into a long luxurious stretch. Well as good a stretch someone who had been beaten, starved and god knows what else could give into. 

"I don't know what to write." Harry groused his eyes reverted to Draco's stomach. He felt his jaw clench in anger as he slammed his chair back down on all fours. Draco's stomach was sunken in so completely that the ridges of his ribcage could be traced easily from a distance.

//I'm going to bloody well kill someone; How could anyone be so cruel? // He thought as his mind turned crimson with anger. He didn't even know where the anger came from but he was going to indulge it as long as he wanted. However, before he could imagine all the torturous things he could and would do to the person that hurt the blonde, Draco's voice cut into his thoughts - 

"Then d-don't write a-anything." He garbled, running a hand over his forehead. His face was slowly becoming tense with a mixture of discomfort and alarm. Harry sat up straighter, thumping his chair back onto all fours. 

"What is it?"

"I-I d-d-don't know. It h-hurts. L-like f-fire but m-more gentle." Draco whispered in wonder even though terror coated his face. His dirt smudged fingers massaged his forehead over the hair plastered there. He looked at Harry, eyes shinning in panic. "D-don't l-l-let it ha-happen again!"

Harry felt his stomach lurch at Draco's plea. //Oh god, this isn't happening.// He thought as he unfurled his body from the seat and moved towards the other boy as slowly as possible. //Please, please don't let this be what I think it is...//

Sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed, Harry tried to pluck up some courage. 

"Potter...oh god Harry...please make it stop!" Draco begged, his voice tittering on the edge of hysteria. He clutched onto the shirt Harry had changed into with the hand he wasn't using to press on his forehead. "Please!"

Harry licked his lips and nodded. "I'll - do what I can Draco. I swear."

Holding his breath, Harry reached out shaking fingers to pry Draco's hand away. When the blonde made to move in protest, Harry let himself fall into the gentle tones of before. "It's okay, Draco. I'm right here. I won't leave you but just let me have a look, hm? I'm right here and I won't let it hurt you--"

Harry continued on with his rambling, not caring what might slip out. His only concern was to see what he already knew in his heart would be there. "That's it baby, just relax. I'm so proud."

Draco's hand went limp to his side as he curled around Harry's body for protection, listening intently to the soothing words that were slipping out of the Gryffindors lips. 

Harry flexed his fingers looking at the shaggy blonde hair flattened against Draco's forehead. //Well here goes nothing...and everything...//

Biting his lip, Harry pushed back the boys hair and -- there; there it was. The one thing that Harry had wanted nothing more than to wish away: a thin lightening bolt scar.

"Oh god..." Harry whispered almost inaudibly. Tears sprung to his eyes as he fingers flexed once again. Draco Malfoy was now another boy-who-lived and there wasn't a damn thing Harry could do about it. "I'm so sorry..."

A choked sob was his only reply. Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

//Please let this be a dream. Please let me wake up and this is all one big nasty dream and I'm still just Harry Potter and Draco is just a cruel as ever.// But when Harry opened his eyes he found that it wasn't a dream. It never would be a dream. It was real.

"At f-f-first I d-didn't know w-what was g-g-going on.” Draco whispered suddenly, his voice deadly calm despite the way his body shook against Harry’s own. “M-my father c-c-came and t-t-told me to g-get up and g-get dressed. H-he said I n-n-needed to hurry. I t-thought mum was s-sick or t-t-that we w-where finally going into h-hiding l-like he always t-talked about. B-but I w-wasn't fast enough...they c-c-came in d-dragging my--" Suddenly the blonde choked as a sob rose in his throat. Harry did the only thing he could: pulled the boy closer, wrapping him in warmth and understanding. 

"You don't have to." Harry mumbled, pressing his lips against the other boy‘s hair in an effort to keep his own voice steady. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t need to. He already knew. 

But Draco shook his head. He needed to tell this. Taking a sharp breath through his nose, he continued -- 

"They w-were dragging my m-mum by her h-hair. D-ad tried to s-stop them b-but..." Draco shuddered. "...t-they h-hit him with a sp-spell before he could d-do more th-than kill one o-or two. Mum g-got away somehow and r-ran to me. I--she died before she e-even got to me. Sh-she died trying to protect m-me."

Harry couldn’t take it anymore as he let his own tears spill silently, pulling the shaking boy into his lap and shushing him. He didn't need to hear the rest; He didn’t want to. 

"It's okay. You're here now.” Harry whispered, feeling the boys hot tears soak into his tee shirt. “You’re here with me. I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever." 

Without thinking, Harry began placing tiny kisses into the boy’s hair trying to offer any comfort he could. He knew it wouldn’t help but it couldn’t hurt. The Slytherin needed someone; someone to lean on and to understand what he was going through. And that someone was Harry. 

Silence descended on the small bedroom, only choked sobs and ragged breathing filling the quiet. Harry could hear the distant sounds of his Aunt and Uncle moving downstairs and the triumphant crows from his cousin as he watched some game show or other. They’re lives continued as if nothing had happened. 

Harry stared at the wall. His life would never be the same.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Minutes blurred into hours as the young Gryffindor continued to hold the blonde in his arms, offering the only kind of comfort and safety he knew how. Draco had long since stopped his sobbing and was now laying docile within the confines of Harry’s arms, soaking in the other boys’ warmth. 

Harry sighed, tightening his hold on the other boy briefly. How much time passed, he couldn’t say but the sounds of his so called "family" going out to their evening meal could be heard clearly. That, in itself, was a not-so-rare occurrence since both his Aunt and Uncle had given up on trying putting Dudley on a diet. His cousin would simply not stop eating in bulk. So after one very long talk with the Smelting’ school nurse and an even longer one with the tailor, Dudley had gotten his way and was allowed to eat himself into whale history. Harry shuddered to think what he would look like by the time he was out of school...

"D-don't tell anyone a-about this H-h-harry." A soft voice whispered against his ear causing a shiver to race down his spine. Harry shook his head, feeling the smooth glide of skin as their cheeks slide against one another. 

"I won't. You know I won't."

 

Draco nodded and rested his head back onto Harry's chest. That was how they had ended up after those few hours. Harry laying down on the bed, one hand behind his head for support, the other wrapped around Draco's waist with the boy laying practically on top of him. His head was tucked next to Harry's on the pillow causing their cheeks, or even occasionally Draco's lips, to rub against each other. Whether it bothered Harry or not to have Draco's slight form nestled against him...no one would be sure. But the fiery tingling in his scar was certainly a clue...

"D-Does it l-look bad?" 

Harry‘s lips twisted. He knew this question would come. "Not any worse than mine."

"Oh." A wheezy laugh escaped Draco's lips. "I-I had hoped m-mine would be d-different."

What? "What?"

Harry could feel Draco‘s lips twist into a sad smile against the side of his neck. "People will th-think I'm just c-copying you. Just a-another Malfoy trying to be b-b-better than a P-Potter."

Harry couldn’t help but give an odd smile of his own. As much as it should disturb him that Draco was right...he couldn't bring himself to care or even want to. After all their years of rivalry and trying to live up to the enmity their father's had had for one another...well...it just seemed strange to try to be enemies here and now. 

"Don't be ridiculous Malfoy." Harry teased half heartedly. "Everyone knows that Potter's are the best."

Draco snorted or at least tried to until it turned into coughing. 

//Guess the funs over...// Harry thought mournfully as he rolled out from under Draco, gently rearranging the boy on the bed so he wouldn’t be in pain. 

"We need to get you in the shower..." He said, resting his hands on his hips in an all business like manner. //Shower to get the grime off...no, corrections. Two showers. One to get the dirt clumps off and another to actually clean him. Then some clothes and then some weak tea...//

Draco, for the sake of not raising an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side. Harry blushed. 

"You're filthy. And...and...I'm sure the hot water will feel good on your...uhm...body." Harry floundered. He wasn't sure how to deal with this side of Draco; the playful side. 

//He's repressing.// a matter of fact voice said that sounded very much like Madame Pomfrey. Harry grimaced. He knew that. Since the boy had showed up he had been repressing. The small breakdown he had had was nothing to what Harry knew still lurked somewhere under the surface. But if Draco wanted to repress and shield himself from the pain for the time being, Harry wouldn't push...

"I-I'll scrub your b-back if you scrub m-mine." Draco teased weakly. He was enjoying Harry's blushing just a little too much.

"R-ight." Harry mumbled as his face turned another shade of scarlet. "Just shut up and make this easier on both of us."

Draco smiled slightly and settled back onto the bed. He was going to make this as difficult as possible. //Great. Just great.//

With a shake of his head, Harry turned and began to collect the few things he would need. Soap, an extra toothbrush, another set of clothes, and a few other oddities. He didn't grab his rag of a towel. He'd use the Durleys. At least they were good for something...

"Never been in a m-m-muggle shower before." Draco muttered when Harry came back over to the bed side and slide an arm under his shoulder. Harry smiled faintly.

"It's not that interesting."

"B-but I d-don't know how to g-g-get water. I saw one, one t-time in one of the b-books at school and it s-said you had to g-get buckets of w-water." 

Harry snorted. "I can assure you that though muggles may not have all the advances we do, they still figured out indoor plumbing."

"O-oh. D-did they?" 

"Hmm." Harry affirmed. He wasn't particularly interested in talking about muggle plumbing with Draco but if it kept the boy’s mind from how he could barely stand and had to have Harry take all his weight, he'd tell him anything he wanted to know. "Don't worry about it, Draco. I'll be there to turn it on and off and explain to you anything else you want to know.

"You're g-gonna shower w-with me?" Draco asked surprised. Harry felt his stomach clench. 

"No. But I'm not about to leave you in there alone even with my relatives gone." 

//And definitely not in the state your in.// He added silently. So far they had only succeeded in getting Draco half-way across the room. It seemed as if he could get his legs and feet to work properly. The simple task of making one foot follow another was almost too much. 

//Damn! Damn! Damn! Why couldn't I have paid closer attention when we had to take that emergency health class last year?//

It had been a mandatory class that all students over third year level had to take just in case. Or, at least, that was what Madame Pomfrey had said the first day of the class. 

Minutes ticked away as Harry shuffled Draco bit by bit to the bathroom. He had wanted to just pick the boy up and carry him in but he knew the blonde would protest. So he was at least going to give Draco the illusion that he was doing it on his own so when Harry did carry him back to his room, Draco couldn't say anything.

"Think you'll be okay in here for a minute?" Harry asked, sitting Draco down on top of the loo. 

Draco nodded, panting for breath. That walk had been a little much for him. 

"Okay. I'll be right back, okay? Two seconds. I promise." Harry called as he hurried out the room and back to his to get supplies. He wouldn't admit it to anyone but he didn't like leaving Draco alone. The rational part of him knew that he was being ridiculous. The Dursleys would be out for hours. Dudley never left a restaurant until he'd had at least four helpings. And it wasn't as if the Death Eaters were going to storm the house. Not with the protection spells surrounding it. 

But none the less, he couldn't help but feel as though he was letting Draco go unprotected. 

"Back." Harry said, as he re-entered the bathroom less than a minute later with everything he needed. "Told you I would be back."

Draco gave him a weak smile. But Harry didn't find it hard to tell that the blonde's face looked strained and paler than usual. Harry sat the belongings on the counter.

"Hey." He said softly, kneeling down in front of the other boy. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I just went back to the room to get a few things. I won't leave Draco. You're stuck with me."

Harry smiled gently. "You're safe. I'll protect you."

Draco's eyes welled with tears as he nodded. "O-okay."

Harry caressed his cheek. "How about that shower, hm?"


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The shower ended up taking longer than either boy had really planned. After sorting out the few items he needed, Harry flipped on the shower head so the heater could kick in -- the Dursleys’ had a horrid water heater, it took at least five minutes for the water to warm up enough so you wouldn't go into shock -- then went about doing the one task he wanted to avoid: undressing Draco.

"D-do I need to s-s-stand?" The blonde asked quietly as Harry leaned over to grab the hem of his tee shirt. Harry shook his head.

"No. I can manage." He murmured quietly, hoping his gentle tone would soothe and comfort the other boy as well as steer clear of any embarrassment that might be trying to force its way to the surface.

Draco nodded, looking down at his battered hands lying curled in his lap. A small flush began to spread over his cheeks and neck, disappearing into the neckline of his tee shirt. The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was debating if he should say something.

Harry’s fingers curled around the hem of the boy’s shirt, waiting and watching. Draco’s face was beginning to pinch into itself as though a war was raging inside but minutes ticked away as the boy said nothing. Finally, the blondes nodded slightly, lips thinning to a pale line across his face.

With a deep breath, the young Gryffindor began to ease the tattered tee shirt up. Inch by excruciating inch it peeled away to reveal bruised flesh. A multitude of cuts and blackened bruises marred the once milky flesh of the blonde’s abdomen. 

Welts of varying sizes ran crisscross along his stomach to form a deranged and bloody version of a tic-tac-toe board. Scratches that could only belong to fingernails glared an angry red, obviously infected by the lack of medical attention. 

Harry swallowed thickly but continued to peel the shirt away to reveal the bottom of Draco’s chest...There was patterned bruises that could only be from the long end of a belt. 

//A belt? Wizards don't wear belts...//

"Draco..." Harry began, revulsion causing his voice to waver and hands still where they were. 

"D-don't!" Draco hissed, shaky hands grasping Harry's own in a surprisingly strong grip. "J-just don't P-potter. I don't w-want to talk a-about it!"

Harry could only stare at him in surprise. A part of him was screaming to not listen to Draco. To ask the boy the question he wanted to. But...

"It's okay, Draco." He murmured, fighting down a wave of nausea. Sucking a sharp breath through his nose, he carefully began to ease the shirt up again. 

It would only make things more difficult than they already were if he pressed the blonde on the issue. Draco would tell him what he wanted to know sooner or later. 

//Lets just hope it's sooner.// Harry thought as he felt bile rise in his throat. If he had thought the bottom of Draco's chest was bad...

Bloody welts glared angrily back of him. Some of them were rising up from his skin giving Harry more than a good hint that they were inflamed. Along the welts, bruises highlighted them, making your eyes jump from one to the next before you could stop them. 

Against his hands, Harry could feel Draco shaking so badly that he could barely hold the hem of the shirt without Draco's body bumping again them causing a small yip to escape his lips. 

"I'm so sorry..." Harry whispered, tears stinging his eyes. And he was. He was sorry for so many things right now; for his parents dying to protect him, for him not being strong enough to destroy Voldemort fully, but most of all for not being able to protect Draco from...everything...

"L-l-leave it, Potter." Draco growled, shoving Harry's hands away. 

"Draco..."

"NO!" 

Harry watched in alarm as Draco ripped the tee shirt over his head the rest of the way, causing some of the welts to begin to bleed again.

"There P-potter! H-have a good l-look!" Draco hissed, fingers clenching into fists. But Harry didn't. It wasn't for the lack of wanting to but he knew now, without a doubt, that if he did, he would lose the little bit of trust Draco had in him...forever. 

"Draco...calm down." Harry implored softly, staring directly into the other boy‘s tear clouded eyes. "You're going to hurt yourself." 

"I d-don't c-c-care!" Draco shouted at him. "I don't c-care! D-do you hear m-me! I d-don't!"

Another part of Harry's heart died. 

"Don't l-look at me l-like that P-potter! I don't want your p-pity!" 

And with that Draco began to push at Harry, albeit weakly. His bone-thin hands pressed against Harry's shoulders as if he was trying to escape. 

"L-let me go, Potter! L-let me go!" 

"I'm not touching you Draco. I'm not. I swear it." Harry said, letting his hands fall down to his sides as Draco continued to push.

//Let him wear himself out. He needs to get it out...//

"L-let me go..." Draco sobbed, giving one last shove to Harry before breaking down into gut wrenching sobs. In a matter of seconds, the hands that had been shoving Harry away were pulling him close. 

Harry didn't hesitate as he wrapped his arms carefully around the other boys form, sliding to the ground and pulling Draco into his lap.

"It's okay baby. I've got you. Harry's got you. I'm here. No one else. Just Harry...just your Harry..." He murmured, rocking them both back and forth. One hand rested against the small of the boys back while the other rubbed soothing circles into Draco's withered arm. 

Time slipped away as Harry rocked them, his back pressed against the shower door and Draco curled pathetically in his lap. The blonde’s sobs bounced around the walls but Harry didn't seem to mind. He would simply shush him gently and pull him closer. 

//He's losing it, Harry; he's falling apart slowly but surely. Merlin knows how long he's been wandering around the muggle world. It's all been too much for him...You need to fix him. Give him something to hold on to.// 

Harry looked down at the boy in his arms. His sobs were slowing as exhaustion set in. //He's only been here a day...//

"D-don't let them take me, Potter..." Draco murmured, more than half asleep. 

Harry's heart fluttered. 

"Never." 

//A day is all you need.//


	14. Chapter 13

**Note:** I thought it would be a good time to break in and say, again, to everyone to suspend your beliefs because this is all just for fun! :)   
\---

**Chapter 13**

By the time Draco had dropped into a deep sleep, Harry had just begun to worry. He wasn't sure how long they had been in the shower and though he was confident his relatives wouldn't come barging in on them should they return home, he still had many things to do. One being top and foremost in his mind was making something light for Draco to eat. He didn’t want to push the boy, that would only make him sick, but they had to get something into his stomach. 

Harry fought down a few choice curse words as he tried to remember what was in the pantry downstairs. He wasn't sure what Aunt Petunia had stocked and more importantly if what she had stocked he would be able to take. Not that there was a chance that his Aunt would notice something was missing. With Dudley in the house, things tended to only last for so long. Harry had to learn that the hard way. 

//There should be some tea left. Dudley hates honey tea and Aunt Petunia only brings it out when company is over.// He thought shifting Draco onto the floor regretfully. 

A shower was most definitely out of the question now. Well, at least a real shower was out of the question. The best he could do for the boy was give him a make-shift sponge bath to get some of the grit off of him as well as bandage some of the worst of the wounds; which meant most of his body. Harry sighed. Once Draco had his strength back, Harry would be able to help the blonde to take a shower. 

Not wanting to waste time, Harry scrambled to his feet and opened the shower door enough so he could reach in a flip the water off. It had just barely begun to warm. Turning on his heels, mindful of were Draco lay, the young wizard went to the water basin and flipped that water on. It would be better if he had a bowel of some sort, just so he could lay it beside Draco as he tended to him, but a part of the Gryffindor wouldn’t allow him to leave the confines of the room long enough to find one.

//This is easier anyway.// a voice supplied. He didn’t argue. 

Adjusting the knobs, Harry let his finger hover under the water, waiting for the temperature to become just right. Thankfully, the water in the tap warmed faster than the shower and in no time at all, the basin was half filled with lukewarm water. 

Wiping his fingers on his jeans, the dark haired boy grabbed the soap he had brought from his room, which was only a small bottle of slivery liquid Hermione had made for him before they left Hogwarts. Quickly he measured out a cap full and dumped it into the water. The liquid was a mixture of Woundwort poultice and an array of other herbs that Harry wasn't sure he could pronounce but his friend had promised worked wonders. 

Swishing his fingers around in the water, the Gryffindor watched in mild fascination (though he'd seen it before) as the water turned a coppery color. He knew from his own experience that the liquid was extremely powerful. Just the small cap-full would help heal more than half of Draco's cuts while disinfecting the worst of them as well as ease the ache in some of the uglier bruises.

He really needed to thank Hermione sometime...

Steeling his resolve, Harry grabbed one of the many rags he had brought and dipped it into the water. Better to use his rags first. He could at least throw them away. 

//Hope you're a deep sleeper, Draco.// He thought as he dipped the rag in again, rung it out and slide to his knees beside the prone boy. //Better just leave the pants on for now.//

Folding the rag into a small square and placing the corner of it onto the blonde’s shoulder, Harry swallowed thickly. He truly hoped that the other boy stayed asleep through out all of this. It was going to hurt like hell if not.

Casting one last glance to the Slytherin’s face, Harry began to bathe away the dirt. Almost instantly, the rag was covered in caked dirt and congealed blood. Harry felt his stomach roll.

// I’m sorry. // 

Lifting the clothe away, Harry dipped it into the water basin, watching as the grim floated off the rag to be pulled to the bottom of the sink, just as he had knew it would. Squeezing the clothe out again, he leaned back down to his task.

//Slow and easy; the last thing I need is for him to wake up.// He thought, scrubbing as gently as possible at a spot near Draco's collarbone. 

Several trips to the water basin and more than a few rags later, Harry had finally cleaned Draco's chest, neck and face to the full extent that he could. He was hard pressed not to caress the creamy skin now that it was clean. Never before had he realized how much it truly did make Draco look like -- Draco; like the boy he knew, or, had thought he knew.

//C'mon Harry! Get it together! He's exhausted, beaten and more than likely mentally unstable. You can't just start --petting -- him when he's like that!// He chastised himself. But even so, Harry couldn't help but let his fingers hover over the downy flesh of Draco's bare shoulder. 

//He's beautiful. Really truly beautiful.// He mused, watching in mild fascination as his tanned hand hovered so close to the boy‘s cream flesh he could feel the heat rising. 

As strange as it was for the Gryffindor to think or even begin to think, he did think Draco was beautiful. Why he never noticed it before was beyond him. But now that he had, the fragile beauty lying before him took his breath away. Draco Malfoy was exquisite. 

"So beautiful..." Harry found himself murmuring unconsciously, hand moving in the air just above the normally porcelain skin.

It didn't matter that this young wizard was one of his enemies; that he was a boy; that right now Draco was broken. Harry could fix him.

"I don't know what's going on Draco. Not with you and not with me but I swear to you -- I'll make this right." The Gryffindor murmured, moving to place a comforting hand on top of Draco's heart. But the comfort only lasted for as long as it took for Harry’s skin to touch Draco’s. 

A firestorm was exploding through his scar.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Biting his lip, Harry could do nothing but clutch his forehead as the sensation exploded through his body. It was as though a thousand small fingertips were running along Harry's scar making the rest of his body prickle with energy and his stomach clench painfully. The sickening sensation rolled over him in waves as he stared down blearily at Draco.

The feeling was like torture. A very strange and exciting torture but none the less torture...

//Oh bloody fucking hell this is too much! // He thought as he tried to concentrate on the feel of Draco's skin beneath his hand. But, if anything, the concentration on that creamy surface only made the sensation increase ten-fold. A low moan of pleasured pain escaped his lips as he felt his body sliding to the ground beside Draco's sleeping form. 

The cool tiles of the bathroom floor made him hiss as they pressed against his over heated flesh. His stomach fluttered dangerously making his quickly pull his hand from Draco's chest and press it against his mouth. The waves of pleasure were overriding his system but then --

The sensation faded. Completely.

//What?// Harry thought hollowly as his body continued to shake from the left over jolts of magic. It was as if a gate had been slammed close, cutting off the pulse that had seconds before riddled his body with excruciating ecstasy.

Panting, Harry stared hard at the side of Draco's head. What the hell was going on? Never before had something like that happened to him. Only this morning when the blonde showed up had it started...

//Merlin, was that just this morning? // He thought fuzzily. It seemed ridiculous to think so after all the things that he’d been through during those few hours. 

 

//I need a vacation.// was his only thought as he forced his eyes to refocus. 

Allowing his self one short minute of rest, the Gryffindor waited for his pounding heart to slow before pushing himself up to his knees once again. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he wiped away the sweat that had gathered there even as he licked his upper lip. 

//I have to write Professor Dumbledore -- I have to. No matter if I can't find the right words to tell him what’s going on. // He thought ignoring the bang of --hesitation? -- in his heart. He knew that it was the logical thing to do. Obviously something was going on here; something more than his one time archenemy showing up beaten to a bloody pulp. Even if Harry had been a muggle, he would be hard pressed not to feel the magic that had flooded the air moments ago. As a practicing wizard, however, it almost choked him with it‘s thickness. 

Regardless of the fact that magic having no real smell or taste, with the amount that had just happened within this one tiny bathroom, it should have. 

//Worry about it later! Get moving, you git! You need to get him cleaned and back into your room before the Dursley's get back! And before whatever that was, happens again. // A frantic voice rattled in his head. It was enough to make Harry nod. 

Tonight, when he had time, he would decide what to do. He would think up a plan or at least write Professor Dumbledore but for now, he needed to worry about Draco. 

And with that, as if nothing at all unusual happened - fore what would be accomplished if he dwelled on it - Harry went back to bathing Draco; rolling him to his sides (though he didn't wake up) to get the grim of his back. Harry was thankful to see that there was barely any damage there other than a few fading bruises. Apparently whoever had hurt Draco had attacked him from the front, only allowing the boy to protect his back. That along gave Harry some small morsel of relief...

//I would never forgive myself if someone had hexed him from the back. // He mused, mind still partially muddled from the wave of magical energy as he resettled Draco into his former position. 

Now, that only left Draco's lower half.

"I hope you'll forgive me, Draco..." Harry murmured as he began to undue Draco's be-ragged trousers. Taking great care not to wake the boy, Harry pulled the fabric down his legs with a clinical like calm he had seen Madame Pomfrey use the few times he had had to endure being undressed by the aging medi-witch. Every now and then, he was forced to stop as the fabric seemed to stick to whatever was underneath. His fingers shook, though he wasn’t sure if it was due to restraint or fear for what he might see.

Harry’s stomach fluttered nervously as he tugged the last leg free. Draco's legs were smooth a silk even though they were withered and bruised. The creamy skin was pale and hairless as the day he was born and it seemed to be a natural state of affairs for them to be so. 

Swallowing thickly, Harry’s stomach somersaulted as he, for the first time, let his eyes trail up the legs, thighs... 

His mouth went dry, cheeks burning. Draco didn't wear any underwear. 

"Oh..." He croaked, quickly averting his eyes for Draco’s’ and his own sake. Snatching one of the fresh towels nearby, he quickly placed it delicately over the blonde. Once the temptation to look had dimmed slightly, Harry forced himself to adopt, what he hoped was, a vague clinical manner and cleaned the smooth hairless legs. 

All too soon he found himself patting the moisture off the boy’s body and grabbing a small tube of crushed 'immortelle' to smooth over Draco's cuts. For the most part the crushed flowers were only used (as far as he knew from Madame Pomfrey) for broken bones but from his own experience he knew it held other healing qualities. 

What they were, he couldn't say but he felt confident that if it worked for him while in mid-quidditch season then it would work for Draco now. He only hoped it hadn't gone bad. 

"Almost there." He murmured, wiping his fingers on a spare rag before turning and grabbing the change of clothes he had brought. They weren't much to look at; just a very oversized pair of sweat pants and a worn tee shirt but they were better than what Draco had had. 

//I'll have to burn those.// Harry ruminated, picking up the wasted clothes and dumping them on the pile that he made before turning and manipulating Draco's body into the fresh set of worn out tee shirt and pants. 

He couldn't help a small smile at the picture Draco made. Though his hair was still shaggy and more than a little dirty, he looked like a little boy in the oversized clothes. A very badly treated one but none the less, he looked very fetching. 

//I'd probably get the trademark Malfoy glare if he knew what I was thinking...// 

The young wizard thought, indulging in an image of that very glare in his mind. He cut the thought short. Now was not the time to daydream.

//All right.// He thought, eyes dancing around the small room as he took in inventory of the mess he had made while bathing Draco. He needed to make sure to clean it. Soon. But for now, he would worry about that after he had taken care of Draco.

Squatting down, Harry picked up the blonde much as he had before and carried him back to his room. The boy seemed disturbingly lighter without some of the filth that had covered him. 

//Sweet Merlin.// Harry thought. How could the blonde have lived like this? There was nothing there; just skin hanging onto bone. 

Somberly, the Gryffindor settled Draco into his bed, pulling the thin coverlet over his form. A sigh escaped the blonde's lips as he immediately snuggled his head into Harry's pillow. 

"Congratulations, Draco. You've definitely done what no one else could. You made me happy to be the Boy-Who-Lived for the first time in my life." Harry whispered before turning back to the door way to trudge back to what he needed to do. 

Harry paused in the doorway to stare at the sleeping boy’s form, the distant echo of the pleasure in his scar flickering before he turned to go make tea and clean the bathroom.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The night found Harry sitting at his desk, staring intently at Draco's sleeping form. 

Glimmers of moonlight slithered through the window, illuminating the boy's white-blonde hair to make a halo around his gaunt face. Every now and then his cheeks would twitch as though a wisp of a nightmare was coming upon him but then would smooth after he buried his face in Harry's pillow and filled his senses with the raven haired boy’s scent.

The implication of that, if nothing else, tore at Harry's heart more than he cared to admit. As it was, if Draco had sought out Harry, even if he hadn't consciously known it, that would mean... that would be as if --

//As if he only felt safe with me.// Harry thought, running a shaky hand through his hair. That thought alone was enough to make the Gryffindor want to run out the room and hide until someone came to collect Draco. 

He'd never had anyone who relied on him. 

Oh sure, he'd had people admire him, praise him, hell, a few even "looked-up" to him but never before had someone truly rely on him. Some might say that he had more than half of the Wizarding community relying on him for their safety but that was decidedly different. They weren't truly relying on him. They were relying on the abilities he had, whatever they were, to save them all. They were relying on his knowledge of magic, his courage in the face of evil; they were relying on the Boy-Who-Lived. Not Harry Potter. 

Not Harry.

Draco on the other hand -- was. He was relying on Harry's physical and emotional strength; his knowledge of everyday life in both the Wizarding and muggle world. He was relying on Harry. Just Harry. Only Harry, at this point.

// What if I fail him? //

That was a question that had been looming over the young wizard since just after he had settled Draco into his bed. He had tried not to think about it and had succeeded with all the distractions of cleaning and making sure he had things the boy would need -- until now. Now, all he had to distract him was the rise and fall of Draco's chest and the intrusive sounds of his Uncle's snoring. It wasn't enough.

//I can't fail him. I can't. I don't think I could live with myself if I did. // He thought reverently, the gravity of the situation settling itself heavily on his shoulders. If he failed Draco it could mean so many things. Not just for Draco or for himself but for everyone. For every wizard and witch in the magical world. 

If Harry failed, he'd lose faith. Not just in the world but in his self. If he couldn't protect everyone from the clutches of the Dark Lord, how could he ever hope to protect Draco from -- everything? 

//Wait...wait...you're putting Draco above everything and everyone? How can you do that? Yesterday you wouldn't have thought twice about throwing him in Azkaban with his father and in less than twenty-four hours you're...you're...// 

This time the voice sounded so much like Ron that Harry had to smile but it faded almost as quickly as it came. 

//I'm what? Willing to be the bigger man and put our childish antics behind me so I can take care of him? So I can make sure that something like this doesn't happen to anyone else?// He argued, a frown creasing his brow.

A very Ron-like sigh came at him mentally along with...//You're cracked.//

And he was. If being cracked meant that he was willing to take care of Draco then he would proudly wear that name. 

"Going to take care of you like no one has before..." Harry murmured, gliding from his chair to kneel beside the bed. Reaching out a sure hand, he ran it down the length of Draco's supple spine that was (conveniently) exposed to him. 

"You don't know what you're doing to me, Draco." He continued on conversationally, not minding at all the he was speaking to the back of the blonde's head. "Everything that I've built-up towards you in the last couple of years at Hogwarts, you've managed to shatter in the span of less than a day."

"I don't know if you planned it that way. I hope not. If you did…I really don't think you did. If you had, you wouldn't have shown up to me so…so, vulnerable. You took a chance on me and by the stars I'm happy you did..." 

Harry moved from his kneeling position to, as gently as he could manage, slide onto the bed behind the boy. He didn't crawl beneath the covers. It was a warm enough night. Harry continued on --

"I'm sorry that all this had to happen to you, Draco. No matter if your parents were or were not involved with the Death Eaters and Voldemort in some way or another. No one should have to deal with that. No one. And, I know that it doesn't mean much to you for me to say but -- if I could, I would have sparred you the pain. I know you'd probably think that I don't know the pain. I never really knew my mother and father. But I do...I do know the pain. Or at least the fear. I live with it everyday of my life." 

Thoughts of Sirius, his still on-the-run godfather, rushed through his mind. Ever since those few short moments with his godfather, Harry had rarely seen him. 

Sure, he had seen his godfather in secret and was writing to him regularly but it wasn't the same. Every day Harry lived in fear that he would get a note from Ron or Hermione, or even pick up the Daily Prophet and see that the man had been captured and was going to receive the Dementor's kiss. 

Harry didn't hold to the illusion that he could save the wayward man again. It had been only a stroke of pure luck that he had done it once. Not that Harry believed in luck anymore. Luck was for muggle kids who had dreams of becoming a star. Not for the boy who had the fate of the entire Wizarding world resting on his fingertips. 

"Sometimes..." Harry started, pulling himself closer to Draco as he tried to think of the right words. "Sometimes I wonder if this all isn't a game of some kind. That someone's going to jump out from behind a corner, point and finger and laugh like a loon while someone else tells me this has all been made up. That dragons and magic and Voldemort are all just some game that they made up to test me. Test to see how well I'll be able to deal with real life because everyone knows it's made of madness and tea parties..." 

Harry again moved closer to Draco till his chest was pressed flush against the boy's back. 

"But I'll tell you one thing Draco Malfoy, if this is a game and we're all just pawns in the whole grand scheme of things...I hope to God, Merlin or whoever is willing to listening, that you and I aren't. That whatever is happening between us isn't some...some amusement from fate."

With that final sentiment hanging in the air, Harry Potter, the boy who lived, slipped into a dream-filled sleep.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Morning came all too early for Harry the next day. The sounds of his Uncle's bumbling about in their bathroom, of his Aunt saying she was going to make her "Duddlykins" some breakfast and the sound of his cousin making pig-like noises as he tried to wake-up were the second thing that came into Harry's sense. 

The first was the cool weight snuggled against his side, the breath wafting warmly across his chest and the silky strands of hair that were brushing the underside of his chin. Harry smiled. 

//I wouldn't take him for a snuggler...// He mused sleepily as he tightened his hold around the blonde and tried to will away the sounds of everyday life. It was easier said then done. For some reason everything sounded amplified by twenty. //Probably because I want to stay in bed.//

The young wizard allowed himself to stay in bed for ten more glorious minutes before nature and morning-breath made him wiggle his way out from beside Draco (a tough task since Draco had wrapped himself around Harry and had decided that the raven haired boy was, indeed, his property) and started collecting his morning ritual items. 

It wasn't a tough task since most of the items he needed were still stacked on the corner of his desk where he had left them when he had cleaned the bathroom the night before. 

"Maybe I should keep you around Draco." Harry teased the still sleeping boy as he opened his closet to pull out a new set of clothes. "With you here, I'm a little more organized."

"I d-doubt that Potter." A sleepy voice murmured from behind him. Harry spun on his heels to see Draco looking at him with sleep messed eyes and hair that was trying to do a fair imitation of his name. Harry stared for a moment before -- 

"How are you feeling?" 

The blonde pulled a face and carefully rolled into the warm spot the Gryffindor had left behind. "Just p-peachy."

Setting the clothes he had picked out on the end of the bed, Harry moved forward, by passing the bed to sit on the desk chair. "I'm serious, Draco."

A glare was thrown his way. "So am I."

"Draco -- " Harry began but was cut off by a long suffering sigh. 

 

"I'm knackered. All r-right? I feel like a m-moutain troll has been using me as a t-t-target." The Slytherin huffed, cuddling Harry's pillow close and closing his eyes. 

Harry nodded, ignoring the warmth that spread through his chest. "Are you -- do you think that you could stomach some toast this morning?"

Draco pried open one eye and peered at Harry. "Maybe."

Harry gave a supportive smile. "Okay. I'll get you some after I wash up."

"O-okay." Draco mumbled still peering at Harry with, now, two confused gray eyes. The gryffindor just continued to smile. Then...

"Why are you b-being so n-nice to me?"

Harry's smile didn't waver. He had been expecting this question sometime, maybe not so soon but he was expecting it. 

"Why shouldn't I?"

The blonde looked at him skeptically. "L-last time I checked you d-didn't like me much." 

"I think the same can be said for you, Malfoy." Harry pointed out bemused. Draco looked away abashed. Minutes ticked away as the Gryffindor waited for a reply of some kind but when none was forth coming he got up and went back to gathering items. 

Once he had his things gathered he turned back to the other boy. "I'm going to go wash up and then get you some toast. Try not getting into any trouble. I'll be back soon." Harry promised while he opened the door. 

"N-never said I didn't l-like you..." The voice was so soft Harry had to strain to hear it. Harry felt his chest tighten as he glanced over his shoulder but the blonde was already burrowing himself back into the blankets, back to the door. 

This time Harry didn't even try to fight the smile that bloomed across his face. "I'll be back soon." He promised again before walking out the door, making sure to shut the door behind him securely. It wouldn't do for him to come back and find his Aunt or worse yet, his cousin bothering the blonde. 

//That's not your only concern.// 

No, it wasn't. He wasn't just shutting the door to keep his relatives out. He was shutting the door to keep a certain blonde Slytherin in; to make sure that Draco didn't, by some chance of Salazar, get enough energy to hobble his way out of Harry's room and, just maybe, out of his life. 

The Gryffindor wouldn't stand for that. //No way in hell or high water I'm letting him go now. Not when I just found him. Merlin knows what could happen to him if he went back out there...//


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

When Harry was finally able to return to his bedroom, he found to his great delight that Draco was still awake. In bed, but still awake and very anxious if the twisted little frown on his face was any indication. 

"Miss me?" Harry asked nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the way relief shinned over the blonde's features when he realized Harry had come back like he had promised. 

"Ye--No. I was just w-wanting breakfast." The Slytherin sneered, a flush covering his cheeks. Harry wasn't fooled. 

"Mmhmm, if you say so. I brought you a bit of toast and tea. There are some biscuits if you get hungry later." Harry murmured placing the tray he had taken for Draco's food on the side of the desk closest to the injured boy. It wasn't close enough for him to reach. "Here, let me help you sit up --"

"I can do it, Potter." Draco snapped, as he braced his hands on the bed and tried to scoot himself into the sitting position. He failed. Tried again. Failed. Again, same result. A snarl of frustration escaped his lips. 

Harry wisely choose to keep silent as he slipped his hands beneath Draco's arms and hefted him to the top of the bed. This wasn’t much of a challenge since Draco hadn’t had the chance to gain any weight. A detail that Harry was planning to remedy very, very soon. 

After all the years that Harry had spent cooking for his relatives, he did a fairly good job. In all truth, he did a smashing good job. He hadn't over cooked, under cooked or even charred an item of food in more than six years. Professor Dumbledore had even said he could probably rival a master chef if someone were to put a recipe in front of him. He took great pride in that, even if Professor Dumbledore was a little bit more than bias. 

So the shaggy haired boy had no worries that he could do the job of fattening Draco up in no time...

"Something you w-want?" Draco's amused voice asked a mere breath away. Harry started. He hadn't realized that he was still holding Draco. 

"Um--I...No. No, I just was thinking." He floundered. Clearing his throat, he pulled back and picked up the cup and saucer. "Tea's a bit stronger today."

Draco smirked as best he could at Harry before he accepted the cup. "Thanks." 

Harry looked away casually, watching the other boy from beneath his lashes. Draco took a slow sip and the smirk melted into a genuine smile. "Y-you put more honey in it t-this time?"

Harry couldn’t help but smile as he nodded. He had made sure to specifically put more after hearing Draco comment the night before, when a case of temporary insomnia had arose, that he rarely got honey in his tea. His father had never liked sweetened tea so those in the Manor usually got only tea with a wedge of lemon. "I figured the sweetness would give you a bit more energy." He lied easily. 

Watching to make sure the boy took another sip; Harry turned back to the tray and picked up the napkin with the two slices of toast. He waited for Draco to drink a bit more before exchanging the one with the other. 

"Chew slow. You don't want to get sick." 

The blonde nodded, beginning to nibble at the edge of one of the pieces of toast his eyes down cast. If there was something in particular on his mind, he didn't say and Harry was loath to ask. He wanted to give Draco some time to just...be...before getting into the nitty gritty of the situation. 

"You're stutter is getting better." Harry commented. He just wanted to have something to say. The silence was unsettling. 

Draco looked up at Harry nervously, chewing slowly on a bit of toast. 

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "What? It is."

The Slytherin shook his head and looked back down again. Harry knitted his brow. 

"What is it?"

Putting down the piece of toast he had, Draco licked his lips and stared at Harry till he shifted uncomfortably. 

"Well?"

"Y-you think this st-stutter is from the curse, d-don't you?" Draco murmured softly. The gryffindor's face scrunched in confusion.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I know that at the end of the school year you didn't have one so..." Harry shrugged.

Draco shook his head again and sighed. "I-I've had a stutter all my life."

Harry stared. "You're lying. I've heard you. I've..."

Draco silenced him with a glare. "It's t-true that I don't stutter. When I was l-little my mother got me a p-private tutor. He t-taught me how to c-control it. Between him a-and my father teaching me the stiff-upper lip etiquette t-that all Malfoy's are suppose to have..." Draco shrugged. "I o-only stutter now when I can't c-control my em-emotions."

Harry tugged on a lock of his hair thoughtfully. "But when you're angry you don't stutter. I should know."

Draco grimaced. "When I'm angry it's t-the one time I'm in control of e-everything."

Harry tugged his hair again and leaned back in the chair he had sat in. "You know..." He said more to himself than Draco. "I can see that. I mean I've seen you angry. Hells more times than I can count you were angry with me. You seem so...intense, when you are. Like you're focusing everything that you are into it."

Draco smiled vaguely. "I do."

Harry cracked a smile back. "I'm sure."

A blush rose on the blonde's cheeks. It looked nice against his pale skin. If Harry did say so himself. 

"H-how about you, H-harry? Got any d-dirty little secrets you want to share?" Draco asked suddenly. Harry grinned. 

"Just eat your toast Draco."


End file.
